Another Storm, Another Arrival
by Hetanna
Summary: A new arrival in Sharance leads Micah to find someone with whom he has more in common than he had thought. (Discontinued)
1. Chapter 1

The depth of the night was the prime time for newcomers to Sharance to arrive, it seemed. To the residents, it seemed only last week that Micah had mysteriously shown up and made his home within the beloved tree and the fields that lay below it. That was why, when another was to show up equally unannounced, equally unknown and equally unexpected, perhaps it wasn't so much of a surprise as it might have been the first time around. This time was a little different. Rather than the arrival being flung from the air, they were flung through it. Winds and rain were equally fierce as they had been during Micah's unscheduled appearance, and in this occurrence they played even more of a part, as they forced a winged humanoid into the leaves of the Sharance tree, for the being to be knocked out by its branches, and plummet down to the fields below with a mighty crash. Said crash waking the sole inhabitant of the structure, the winged being was soon to be spotted, though now minus the appendages that would have seemed so unusual, for the crash had reverted the being's form to a rather more human, plain looking appearance—a blond, unconscious and thoroughly damp man of looks into the mid twenties or so, sprawled within the firmly rooted pink turnip crop of spring. The damage he had done to the crop worried not the farmer; rather his condition, for he found it futile to rouse him by calling him every name he could think of under the sun, and even with gentle nudges and forceful shoves the man would not move. That was why it was a nervous and long night of waiting, when Micah brought the man into his tree house, laid him out on his bed, eyes glued to the stationary figure, and hoped that nature had not taken a life within his own fields only a year after his own arrival here.

Nights, whether long or short, however, were always bound to end, and with it a new day was born, and as such Micah was glad of it, for with the rise of the bountiful sun in the windows, and a glimmer through the empty clouds to boot, came the rise, too, of the eyelids blessed upon the young looking man, and a groan from his throat, all of which alerted Micah and gave him reason to be by his side again.

"Good morning," Micah said with a chirp behind his words, "Rise and shine."

Another similarly groggy sound emitted from the other male, eyelids only allowing a hint more light to enter before another snapped to rival the first; the spring that Sharance brought was clearly too much for a head that hurt as it did. Micah cringed slightly, realising this straight away, and he was then to his feet, doing what he could to block the sun from further touching the new man. He didn't have any curtains up, so he had to make do with the old cloth he'd gathered in the hopes of later making something worthy of sale, in order to mask the windows.

"Please, don't get up," he said gently, though the same glimmer of cheer touched his voice, "You don't have to be in a hurry to leave. I don't start working until an hour from now. It's only five."

A coherent word finally formed in the other's throat. "What..."

"What?" Micah turned around with a smile. "Did you not hear me, or did you think six was a little early to start work?"

"Oh, I heard you..." Despite what Micah had said, the man brought himself to sit up, hearing his bones creak with it. "I think you're quite aware of what I'm confused about..."

Micah was amused by the accent the other man's voice brought along with it. He wasn't one to skirt around what he noticed, and so he was quick to comment on it, rather than answering the question the other was implying. "You sound a little funny. Where are you from? Are you a traveller?"

He wasn't sure why the other seemed to take offence at first, with the scowl that then came, but then he either chalked it up to his grogginess or he figured it out after a second—either way, he then gave a chuckle and went to join him again.

"It's okay. I know how it feels not to be able to answer all these questions at once."

"You do?" the other man grunted, "You seem too hospitable for someone who would know."

To that, the farmer only chuckled once more. He held out his hand and pleasantly grinned. "Micah."

The brow of the other furrowed, and he was hesitant, but considering what he had previously said, he truly did think that this man was being kind. It would not be kind of him, then, to reject the offer to give his name to the other, for that would be an offering of friendship, and at this moment of confusion, if he did not make a friend of this man, then he did not have anybody else in the world who could help him. After all, this did indeed feel like a different world. He felt that he would not find England again in some time, no matter how far in any direction he dared to travel alone.

"Kirkland," he decided, giving a slow nod, and taking the other's offer of a handshake, "Arthur Kirkland... Representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, anthropomorphic personification of England; pleased to make your acquaintance."

Most of that went over Micah's head, but he was sure that it was probably a pretty official role the other played, so he was firm in his handshake but dropped it soon out of courtesy. He couldn't stop the overwhelmed expression from showing in his eyes, however, and ended up stuttering before he even knew it. "Y- yes, well, the pleasure's all mine, I'm sure."

Arthur smiled crookedly. "You would be well served to think it."

There was a moment of silence, before Arthur realised that he had likely made the other feel uncomfortable in some way, and rather than acknowledging it, he thought it best to swing the subject, in his favour, to discuss the matter that was most pressing: where the bloody hell in the world he was.

"It smells of damp wood in here," he stated bluntly. Micah sprung into action.

"Ah, yeah!" he exclaimed, "This is the Sharance Tree. I live here, and I work here, too. I'm a farmer. You kinda landed in this season's crop last night..."

"Landed?" Arthur seemed confused. "But by that, you must mean I literally..." And his face went blank.

"Um... Mr. Kirkland?"

"Uh... Arthur to you if you wish..." Arthur waved his hand, but he was most certainly distracted. He paled and gulped, but then was quick to ditch all prospect of discussing what he had brought to the table. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all."

"You sure?"

"Positive, I assure you."

"Uh, okay..." Micah let a hand skim over his hair, a nervous gesture, but by fear of showing it he just shook his head and decided to move on. "So, as I was saying... I kinda live here and now you're here... So..."

Then he was the one to trail off. The time he had arrived here came back to him, and all of a sudden he felt that what he was about to offer was important and natural.

"I suppose you're going to be staying here, then."

"Yes, I suppose that's inevitable..." Arthur paled, and looked at Micah. "Wait, what?"

"I know, I know, it's kinda weird to have someone just offer you a place to live like that, huh?" Micah chuckled, "But it's kinda what happened to me, and in this place, too. So I guess the Sharance Tree is kinda special in that way... Attracts helpless people with nowhere to go, and gives them a bountiful life from which they would never dream of walking away."

He then slowly panned his head to Arthur. "Sorry... I think I'm taking this too fast. When I was offered a place to live here, I was forced, but I suppose your situation could be a little different to mine... Maybe I should at least let you talk a little first. You knew your name... I suppose you know everything about yourself, then. Not like me. This was my only choice. What you've got is a life you want to get back to, right? Maybe that should be what I'm helping you with instead."

Arthur blinked. He was struggling to follow what the other was saying. What was all this about knowing everything about oneself, having a life to go back to—was all that really so elusive to this farmer man? Arthur almost felt as though he should be finding out about Micah more than Micah finding out about him. That may just have been his curiosity talking, but he could see it in Micah's eyes; he was a firm believer in fate, if he believed so much in this tree home of his. Arthur was just the same. Perhaps he should trust a little in the man who was so courteous as to bring him in out of the rain, and judging by the circles under his eyes, stay up to wait for his awakening.

"Well... Hold on a moment," he began, "I may know everything about myself, but my head is still a little bit fuzzy. Maybe you could just lend me a little of your space until I figure out what to do with myself... I mean, you know. Because you're offering, of course."

Something about that decision delighted the farmer. Something about it lit a fire in his otherwise blue eyes, and that lit a gentle flame in the heart of the anthropomorphism, too. He seemed very happy with it. And it made Arthur smile gently, behind lazy eyes.

"Well, let me make you breakfast, then," Micah said, "And then I've gotta go fix up the crops you kinda smashed up."

A blush rose to Arthur's cheeks, and he became meek in that moment. "My most sincere apologies..."

A wave of the hand from Micah and a rise to the kitchen with a smile said to him, though, that he was immediately forgiven.

* * *

The crash had released an oddly sweet scent from the pink turnips that were nearing their harvest time, so Micah was in high spirits despite their very near demise as he worked to neaten their bed. Arthur remained inside of the tree house, somewhat entranced by the scent of something else; the dish that Micah had prepared—though he wasn't particularly sure he knew what gyoza was, it seemed to be rather marvellous, and Micah had given it to him with such a smile that it was only a hair short of perfection to the taste. As he sat in silence and lonesomeness, he pondered. He had unconsciously counted the nice things the farmer had done for him. First of all, he had taken him out of the rain, and then he had brought him into his home, and stayed up all night for him. He had offered him this place to live with him without knowing a thing about him, and he had forgiven him for almost ruining his livelihood. Now he had allowed him the day to rest and even cooked for him—something Arthur could not even dream of trying to do in return. In fact, counting these nice things, he realised that very few of them he could repay. What he hadn't realised was how bad that would make him feel, and so soon. He wasn't usually overcome with feelings, he liked to think.

Once he had eaten, he decided that he did not need to merely sit and rest any longer. He wanted to make sure that Micah was at least doing alright with the work he had burdened him with. From a distance. He didn't want the other to think he was worried about him or anything.

He slowly neared the ladder that he had seen Micah leave down when he had hurried off to work, and he peered down. The hole in the floor was large enough for him to see right there, without even moving an inch downward, the other man hastily clearing away leaves, and re-cultivating disturbed surfaces of land, giving a gentle hand to each cherry pink turnip that seemed to have been subject to the blow, as if to ask it if it was alright. There was a great deal of care behind the farmer's actions, Arthur thought. It was almost a little bit weird. To take joy in simple things. Perhaps that was what made Micah so naturally cheerful despite the tasks that had been bestowed upon him all of a sudden. Arthur knew very well that he would not have been able to manage such a thing without a grudge. He supposed he was simply not the same kind of man as the other.

He watched Micah for too long and the other spotted him. He stiffened slightly, wondering if he would be scolded for having peered upon him like this, but instead he was only given an enthusiastic wave, and he awkwardly waved on back. He retreated then, lest he should not be so lucky next time, and the other might retract all the nice things he had done. He shook his head. Why would he be so concerned about such things? He was clearly out of sorts today.

Micah, on the other hand, was nowhere near deterred by all that had happened. He was most certainly his normal self. He worked almost tirelessly every day, and did so more and more as he gained strength. A year in this place had blessed him with more inner and outer power than he had ever thought possible for a scrawny thing like him. He knew he could only grow stronger, and the trials of everyday life, or those that would only come once in a blue moon, only added to that strength, so he welcomed them all on with open arms. He most certainly didn't think it was so weird. He thought it the way of the world, and of this life from which, indeed, he would never dream of walking away.

Some time passed before Arthur thought it would be safe to check on the other again. Honestly, he knew nothing of why he felt so compelled to do so. He should have been minding his own business, or thinking over what would be the best next step, but he was just so darned _curious_ about the farmer, and the farm, and everything else about this place. There was something strange about it all. A feeling of energy erupted from everywhere he looked. He saw it in Micah's eyes. He saw it in the way he worked, and he felt it from the walls of his wooden home. It was mystical, and such things were a wonder to him in themselves. But he found that when he peered down through the hole in the floor once more, Micah was no longer there. He had not left his work untouched; in fact, the two giant fields that lay below the tree were neatly tilled and plucked of any weed that could impair the growth of the valuable harvest. But Micah was nowhere to be seen. Curiosity unquenched, Arthur found himself venturing off to go and look for him.

* * *

"He's really weird. I think he might've mentioned where he was from at some point, but he said it in such a way that kinda escaped me, if you know what I mean. I get the feeling he's a bit uptight but there's something in there that just wants to burst out... Something young and free. I guess I related to him. That's partly why I'm letting him stay a while, I guess..."

"Oh, that's beautiful. You're so kind, Micah... I've always thought that. None of the flowers got hurt from his fall, though, did they?"

"What flowers?"

"You know... The ones you're growing on your farm."

"Oh, uh... Yeah! I know what you mean..." he lied, for in fact every inch of his fields was occupied by a far more valuable crop, "Nope, they're all in great shape. You know I'd never let any flowers get hurt while you were in town, Shara."

Sometimes he doubted he'd hear the end of it if that happened.

Suddenly there was a sound at the door, though, that saved Micah from the conversation of which he could easily hear the ugly end nearing should he be left to fight it further with lies, and Shara's attention was immediately upon it, at the notion that there might be a customer to serve.

"Welcome. Can I help you, sir?" she chirped delicately.

Micah looked awkward as anything.

"Uh... Hey, Arthur," he said with his eyes pinned over at his form at the door like magnets, "What... brings you here? I didn't mind that you were watching me from up in the house, but are you sure you can walk all the way into town from up there without... I don't know, combusting or something?"

Shara looked at Micah with confusion, and Micah, while he knew he could say some strange things when he was feeling awkward, seemed somewhat confused with himself.

"I was looking for you..." Arthur interjected without much care, "I..."

He paused, realising he didn't have any particular reason.

"I wanted to make sure you hadn't abandoned me," he decided, his eyes catching Shara briefly, "And... I see you're busy, so I'll take my leave..."

"Not at all!" Shara giggled, "If you're the one Micah was just talking about, I want to know all about you. Micah didn't come here until fairly recently, but it still isn't often we get new people here who are planning to stay for more than a night. Even if Micah says you aren't really sure how long you will be staying..."

Arthur looked at Micah with somewhat of a question in his eyes. Micah looked innocently back at him.

"Is something the matter, Arthur?"

"Not at all..." Arthur replied begrudgingly, although he was a little concerned about how quickly news spread around this place. Perhaps their culture was different, their social norms. He hadn't thought to stop and wonder how little he might fit in in a place about whose geographical location he hadn't the foggiest.

"Putting that aside, welcome to Sharance," Shara said sweetly, "Even if you aren't sure, I hope you'll decide to stay for a long time. As long as you aren't getting in the way of Micah's flower garden, of course."

"I thought he ran a farm."

"He does, but he mainly grows flowers."

"That's news to me; I walked straight past his fields and I didn't see any..."

Micah pierced panic into Arthur through his eyes, but he didn't seem to get it.

"What...?" Shara hummed, eyebrows crumpling slightly. Her attention very slightly moved onto Micah, who tried his best to avoid her gaze. "Were you lying to me, Micah...?"

"Well, no... Technically I wasn't lying, because I said none of them got damaged... which is pretty obvious if they don't... exist..."

Arthur didn't really know what the fuss was all about, so he decided to slip out and take his leave then after all.

* * *

Micah was to return later, though it did take some time. Arthur sheepishly greeted him as he entered the house, and Micah gave a casual wave back. Arthur bit his lip, wondering if he should mention what happened, but Micah was the first to mention it.

"That was hilarious," he said with a smirk, as he began to wash his dirtied fingers, "It always did bother me a little that she assumed I'd favour flowers over crops... She likes them; I get that, but I've gotta make my living in a worthwhile way, you know?"

"Oh... Why, yes, of course," Arthur hesitated, "I suppose it's safe to assume that neither of you are too angry, then?"

"Angry?" Micah repeated with a perk in his voice, turning as he dried his hands, "Of course not. She was a little upset, but she understands. Maybe now she'll finally accept that I know what I'm doing."

Arthur appeared confused, and raised a brow. Micah smiled and closed his eyes.

"She worries about me, that's all. She was the one who decided I'd be living here, and she's been keeping tabs on me ever since. She knows I'm a grown man, but I'm still her project. She even comes to check on me, sometimes; to make sure I'm still supporting myself good and strong, you know? But I don't have the time to mess about, and I've gained the skills to make my own way, now, so it's time for her to let go."

Arthur was again quiet, and Micah took a moment to realise it, but when he looked in his direction, he could see that he was apparently in deep thought. Whether or not to mention it escaped him, and he acted on instinct, at least, to infer his concern.

"You okay? You look tired."

"Huh?" Arthur blinked, and looked up at him, startled by the sudden utterance that had come after the short silence, "Oh, yes, I was just thinking, that's all."

"Care to share? For now, I'm taking care of you and stuff, after all." He paused, and laughed. "Now I sound like Shara. I hope I don't turn out too much like her. Not that she's a bad girl. In fact she's pretty sweet and kind, but..."

Arthur flickered a smile. "She's doting on you, and you don't want to do that," he stated, before sighing, "I suppose we're both like her in a way," he breathed.

"How come?"

"I can fully comprehend the way she feels."

Arthur could fully relate to her struggle of letting go. While it had been years and years since he had last been truly affected by such decisions, he knew that there was one instance that would never leave his mind, even if it was only gently placed at the back, with the rest of the shaky thoughts he thought would topple and cause a great mess if they were disturbed. It was best to leave them for now; leave them to gather dust and remain, for another century or two.

"I get you," Micah stated as he came over to sit with Arthur, "We've all had that kind of thing happen. In fact it happens every day, on a small scale. When the seasons come and go, I always remember the things I should have gotten done at the last second, and it'll bug me for the next couple of days—it'll distract me from my work. Even if it's something simple, like forgetting to harvest a couple of crops that'll surely die under the new weather conditions. Having to accept that and pull them up, and plant new seeds; it's all a little bit hard.

"But, you know, there's always a solution to feeling that way," he continued, "Around this village, there are rich fields that all obey the laws of their own seasons. If I feel that bad, I can make up for it by using those to grow crops out of season. If I felt as though I needed to appease Shara and grow her some flowers, I could grow any flower in the world thanks to that. There's always a solution, to mundane things like that. So I think there's always a solution to the big things, too."

He held a gentle smile over at Arthur, although what he was saying, himself, was bugging him slightly. He didn't really know why he was saying all of this. After all, what had happened today could rightfully be passed off as nothing, for that was surely what it was. But seeing Arthur delve into his own deep thought upon touching the subject of merely letting go, Micah supposed he had been able to see through him, and see the seed of memory that had been stirred, whether he could tell what it was or not. He guessed that he had felt it necessary to help him through that even without invitation. He didn't really understand that about himself. He always felt as though he was getting into everybody else's business, to the point where he sometimes did forget about his own. Great to see that that didn't just apply to the townspeople, he supposed.

"Yeah... I guess you're right." Arthur shrugged. "Listen, I... I'm kind of tired."

"Oh, sure," Micah said with a hasty smile, "It is kinda late, and I have to get up early again tomorrow for the harvest. We should... Oh."

"What is it?"

"I've only got one bed, I just realised..." And he realised then, too, that he had only slept the night before, for an hour or so, before Arthur had made his arrival. He was exhausted himself. But then he quickly shook his head, deciding that he would be selfish if he decided on any other solution, than the one that came into mind. "It's okay. I'll go make up a bed upstairs. Have a good night." He smiled, and quickly hopped to his feet, in a rush to go over to his window.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked in puzzlement, watching for a moment before his eyes widened; Micah was taking down his makeshift curtains, "You're not planning on sleeping on those old cloths, are you?"

Micah turned back sheepishly as he held them in his arms. "I don't have anything else."

"Don't be stupid," Arthur said in a huff, standing up to go to him, "They're full of holes, and it's so draughty up here. As if I'm going to let that happen." He tutted.

Micah laughed awkwardly. "Well..."

"Do you have a needle and thread?"

"Well, sure..."

"Give them to me. Hurry up."

Micah stiffened slightly, feeling as though he was being ordered about by a general, all of a sudden. "Yes, sir," he said hastily, whether he meant to or not, and quickly went off to his workshop to fetch the needle, already attached to a cotton reel. When he returned, he hesitantly handed it over to Arthur, "This good enough?"

"It'll do," Arthur grunted, "Go make a drink or something. I'll be done in a couple of minutes."

"Okay," Micah uttered as he backed away from Arthur, who was apparently storming back over to go and sit on the bed. He watched from the kitchen, as the moss eyed man immediately started doing things with a needle that he didn't even think were humanly possible. He stared with bemusement and intrigue, and a little nervousness at the focused and angry look on the other's face, right up until Arthur looked up to take a moment's break, at which point he immediately spun on his heel and pretended to be doing what he was ordered. It was only a second after that when Arthur approached him again.

"I messed it up a little bit, but given the circumstances, I think that's acceptable," Arthur praised himself.

Micah diffidently looked back at him, and blinked. Arthur was holding a much neater version of the torn up old mess Micah had been storing—the holes were neatly patched up almost seamlessly, and he could see that he had thickened them by combining two or more of the sheets. The particulars, he didn't exactly understand. All he knew was that it looked a lot more like bedding now than it did. Micah had indeed been storing the cloth in order to make something of worth later, in case he needed to back up a month's earnings with a little boost or something similar, but he wasn't anywhere near about to yell at Arthur for this. In fact...

"Whoa..." he huffed, "I could never do anything like that..."

Arthur looked almost shocked. "What do you mean?" he retorted, "This is nothing. You saw how little time it took. And you've got a nice little workshop, if you wanted to sit down and take time over it."

"Yes, but..." Micah sighed, "I've kind of been neglecting practising that kind of thing..."

It was true. Micah had made a firm hobby—and living—out of venturing out and fighting, and with that, it had become necessary over time for him to learn how to make weaponry and armour, but in focusing on such things, he had found himself unable to even thread a needle at times. Such an embarrassing inability led him to neglect it even longer, and that simply led to his competence draining more and more every day. He thought he didn't care about it any more, but seeing other people do it so skilfully made him feel just the tiniest bit inadequate.

Arthur smiled comfortingly, however. His frustrated and focused demeanour drained from him, and he sighed, seeing that the other felt bad. He could tell a lot about Micah through the way his eyes were. They were such a nice crystal blue, like the reflection of a spring sky. And they glistened in such a way with his emotions, that he felt he could read every one. That was something comforting to him. He wasn't always the best at figuring out how other people were feeling, and when he did, he usually just ignored it in favour of his own emotions.

"Whatever the case," he said, "Will this be a little warmer?"

Micah ever so slightly, ever so hesitantly, nodded, and took the bedding in his own hands, giving the smallest of smiles he could muster in gratitude. "Yeah. Thanks a lot."

He couldn't prevent a yawn being directed down into the cloths, however, and at that, Arthur was quick to decide they shouldn't waste any more time, patted him on the arm and muttered to him the wish of a good night.


	2. Chapter 2

Once morning came, however, Arthur quickly found that once again Micah was nowhere to be seen. He remembered he had mentioned getting up early for the harvest, so he assumed that that was just what was being done right now. He listened hard, closing his eyes again as he leaned back against the bed. He couldn't hear any sounds from down in the fields, but that wasn't to say he was wrong to assume what he did; he guessed that harvesting just wasn't a very noisy job. However, in that assumption, he became far too relaxed, and once again allowed sleep to take him, for another few hours, after which he awoke to feel the mid morning fully upon him. He assumed Micah would be done with his harvest by this time, so he dragged himself to his feet, expecting to see him right there. He was gone again, however, and once again was nowhere to be seen in the fields. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes; he guessed Micah had things to do, and he wasn't expecting him to stay in the house and do nothing all day, but he himself didn't know a single person in this town other than the farmer and the flower girl. He wasn't about to try and make any friends either. So he had no choice but to stay right here and wait. And ponder, and think. But why? He could leave any time. He didn't have any attachment to this place. He had things to do where he came from. Now that he was recovered from the thrashing fall, he had no reason whatsoever to be cooped up here. No reason other than the petty wish to repay the man who brought him in so willingly. And he was sure that that wasn't even a real wish he harboured.

He all but decided that he would go out and try to find the exit to this town if Micah didn't come back in the next five minutes. Then he spotted a note on the side of the sink that had evaded his view in this thought. He shuffled over to it, picking up a plain, printed script in his eyes. He supposed a farmer had no need to develop an elegant, flowing cursive like his own. He wondered if that meant he had too much time on his hands.

Micah's note read that he had received a letter this morning and he had been pulled away to run an errand. It didn't include where or who the errand was for, but it mentioned that he probably wouldn't be anywhere in town if Arthur wanted to find him, so he'd have to hold on until night for him to come home. Arthur smiled vaguely. It looked as though Micah understood just as well as he did that he was perfectly capable of being alone by himself. He was glad that the person who took him in was not a complete worryguts, despite what they had discussed last night. Micah was balanced, and he assumed, fair. Quite like himself. Arthur considered himself to be unbiased in his views. Although that consideration itself could have been argued as biased, he decided to ignore that possibility.

Whatever the case, this was perfect. He could easily go out and try to find the way out, if Micah wasn't going to spot him. He didn't want him to feel he was trying to run away from him, after all, and if he was going to feel that way, he would rather know nothing about it and already be half way home by the time the farmer found out he was gone.

Setting down the note, he held his head high and departed, making his way swiftly down the steps leading up to the Sharance Tree, for he felt that his agility might fail him should he attempt to use the ladder that lead to the farm. He didn't know this town in the slightest, but when he had gone trawling after Micah the last time and came across the flower shop, he had seen a pathway to a wooden area in the other direction. He supposed he would go that way this time. Perhaps it led straight out of Sharance. His luck would be with him if that were the case. As such he highly doubted it, but it was always worth a try. It wasn't as though this village could be inescapable, after all... He saw a few similarly lost looking people roaming around right where he was; tourists, or travellers, he assumed. That boded well for him.

Avoiding the strangely suspicious, eccentric house by the entrance, Arthur's eyes skimmed the sign near the opening of the forest, and frowned when he saw that it only notified him that the coming area was called Privera Forest, and didn't at all mention whether it would take him on the right path or not. However, deciding he wouldn't be discouraged, and that it was a rather long way to walk—and there was a high chance of him getting lost—in order to check any other exits to the town, he would at least take a couple of steps inside to see if it _looked _like he might be able to get out from here. Or at least to see if the coast was clear so he could... make an escape through alternate means.

Upon doing so, he was most thoroughly confused.

He stood dead still, staring upon a strange scene before him. A swirling, throbbing, shining green ball of something strange was present right before his eyes. It was as though he could see into another dimension just by peering into the abyss. Strangely entranced by the thing, he began to approach it. And then he jumped straight out of his skin, swearing to God he just had a heart attack, as he was knocked back by something flying straight out of the portal. It was a fat, round, red blob with little brown feet and stumps for arms, and it had a vaguely tube-shaped object protruding from its head in a fashion that made it look like some kind of fruit—Arthur couldn't quite see the illusion of an apple specifically, as he then had to recover from the fall.

And then he was trampled by another being—a sheep that waddled on two legs, seemingly wanting him dead. As soon as the apple-shaped blob saw this, it joined in the fight, and soon the two creatures were rolling on him, kicking him and biting at him with all their might in order to try and rid him from existence. As humiliating as it was for him, Arthur found it quite painful, and being pinned, there was nothing he could do to fight back.

That was until he heard a familiar tone in a voice that hollered without hesitation, getting closer and closer over a second or two until it culminated in a quick blow, sending both of the creatures upon Arthur's body flying off in the opposite direction, and he swore that something flew straight over his head, as well, only to land cleanly on its feet, and for a blade to be twirled in just the right manner to cause a great flash of light that hurt his eyes under the spring sun. After blinking a couple of times, Arthur recovered his vision, and brought himself to a half sitting position, to catch the sight of two little orbs floating in a staggered motion up into the sky, before they seemingly disappeared. And the little creatures were gone.

"Are you okay?" the voice came, and Arthur only then recognised it as Micah's. He blinked once more and looked up, a broadsword in Micah's right hand and the other extended down towards him. And he had a look on his face he didn't think he'd seen before. Arthur hesitantly took his hand despite it.

"I suppose so..."

But he would then face the brunt of the apparent irritation the other had pent up.

Micah's brow twitched and his teeth bared briefly as he dropped his sword to the ground with nowhere else to put it, and his eyes lost the crystal blue mist they always had, and instead obtained a cold glimmer against icy water; they seemed to stare right through Arthur if only for a second. He wasn't angry. But he was frustrated.

"What the heck are you doing here?" he asked with some force, "I didn't say you couldn't leave the house, but coming here without a weapon is a fool's move. The monsters are weak, but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. Did you even know there were monsters here? Did you even read the sign?"

Arthur furrowed his own brow. "I... I read it," he affirmed, "Some of it, yes."

Micah rolled his eyes and looked as though he was about to go off on a great tangent, but then he suddenly stopped himself, sighed heavily with a groan in his throat, and softened his eyes.

"You're lucky I was here," he said lowly, "Death by Pomme-Pomme would've been the most humiliating thing." He paused a moment. "Although I wouldn't say the same of a Wooly even if I do say so myse..." He scoffed. "Never mind."

"Wait... What are you talking about?"

"The monsters. They attacked you. You got too close to their gate. Thankfully I destroyed that too."

It took Arthur a moment or two to realise what he was talking about, when he decided that that swirling orb must have been the gate in question. A monster gate through which the creatures must have pounced. Fascinating. His eyes skimmed over in the direction the thing had existed within, and he saw that it was indeed gone; Micah must have slashed it with his blade—but Arthur hadn't even thought the thing was solid enough for such easy destruction. Was Micah strong enough to reach into alternate dimensions? Or were the laws of this world just... twisted? He _really_ wanted to go home now.

Micah just held a gaze at Arthur then. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he was at least hoping for a simple thank you. Arthur didn't manage to see it at all, because he wasn't even planning on looking upon the other's eyes again, knowing the appearance they could take on under negative emotion. He didn't want to say it, but he found it a little intimidating despite the fact Micah was clearly so much younger than him. He was human, wasn't he?

"Well..." Arthur hummed, almost huffing, as though trying to get back on his high horse after being unceremoniously knocked down, "Why were _you_ here, then? Your note read that you had an errand..."

"Yeah. I had to gather a few things from the forest. Routine stuff. But I haven't had a letter like that in a while. I thought I'd jump on the opportunity when it came up. I still owe a lot to the people here."

Arthur looked at the other with a crumpled gaze. "But, I thought you said it was dangerous here. A little hypocritical of you to come here on a whim, might I say."

Micah wasn't having any of that. He knew what Arthur was doing; he was trying to put him down because he didn't like the position he had knocked him down to, so he had to be careful not to submit to any fault he might make in his arguments in order to stay strong. He had been soft at first, but that wasn't at all all Micah had to him. He didn't like to think it was, anyway.

"I said it was dangerous for anybody who didn't have a weapon with them," he said firmly, bending down at the knees slightly to retrieve the broadsword from the ground beside him. He held it quite tentatively, but he was still looking at Arthur; the other could just feel it.

"Tch," Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Very well, then. You're clearly busy, so I shall be returning now."

"Not without an escort, you won't," Micah retorted, "It's hard to just end up at Privera Forest without looking for it. That's why Daria lives here all alone. She likes the quiet so she can focus on her art. You came here for a reason and I can't trust you to stay out of trouble if I leave you to your own devices. You can come with me and then we'll go home."

"Don't be so insolent about someone like me."

"I'd never even heard of you before in my life; you can't be that important." Micah felt his heart throb all of a sudden. He realised he was probably taking this too far. And while he didn't like admitting things right away, he would never be so stubborn as to take an argument on beyond the point of no return. Any remaining hint of irritation and frustration drained from him and he sighed it away as though it was an airborne particle. Then a rather genuine and heartfelt murmur came through in his voice as for that moment he again returned to being meek for the sake of moving on. "Sorry..."

Mood whiplash. Arthur didn't really know how to deal with it.

"Wh- whatever you say! Let us just get on if you insist it." Arthur wanted it over with as much as Micah. But for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Micah flickered a half hearted smile, and didn't plan on adding anything. Leaving things as they were seemed to be the most stable development, even if he regretted the entire situation's mere existence in time. He led Arthur out of the forest, without straying a single foot from him until he was sure that they had reached the point away from which no monster would ordinarily ever venture. Then they wandered on past the florist. Arthur was very silent. But Shara was dwelling outside of the door. Micah paused to spend a mere moment exchanging a greeting with the girl, and she was as cheerful as she had seemed the previous day. It was odd to see a very definitely shinier glance towards Micah that she gave, than the one given to Arthur when her attention was turned. Arthur wondered for a brief moment if that meant anything at all. Or whether he was just trying not to think of what had happened. Now that a moment had passed, he realised that it really would have been humiliating to be defeated by a fat apple.

* * *

Arthur and Micah ended up at the weapon shop that was just east of the little florist they had passed. Micah didn't say a word to Arthur as he opened the door and wandered on in; Arthur just assumed that it was alright for him to enter as well. He didn't know what to expect any more, so he didn't even try to think up what might await him. All he could think upon entering, however, was that this place felt hot and stuffy, and that girl who was behind the counter was more beautiful than anything he had seen in the recent past. With her long red flowing hair he almost thought she was some kind of goddess, but she had a cold stare too, and that quickly deterred him from looking, instead retreating to loiter behind Micah as he took care of his business.

"You got it all?" a deep female voice came.

Micah quickly started to rummage through the little bag he had with him. "I think so."

He pulled out some various pieces of scrap metal, although some of them actually had somewhat of a shine to them. It was then when, even whilst gazing half at the floor, Arthur realised that Micah had rather scratched up fingers. He must have extracted those materials manually from some kind of source in the forest at the same time as fighting off monsters. And who knew how far into the forest he had gone, and what lurked there? Arthur bit his lip.

"It's everything," the deep voice came again, "Here." The beautiful girl thrusted an amount of money into Micah's hand. And it actually caused him to wince.

"You're welcome—I mean, uh... thanks." He gave a very awkward chuckle and shuffled to take everything back into hand again. "Guess I'll be going."

"Guess you will." The voice was very stiff and hard. Even with the assumption that Micah would come to expect it by now from this girl, Arthur found himself expecting the other's voice to come again to carry on some kind of conversation. Instead he really did just turn on his heel and nudge Arthur to follow straight behind him.

Time almost seemed to slow as he let his head drag for a moment long enough for his eyes to meet those of the red haired girl in his turning, and he swore that heat and ice mixed in her stare enough to give him a feverish chill.

* * *

However things were to occur, after several days, Arthur still hadn't left Sharance. While his plan had been to slip out quietly while Micah wasn't looking, it seemed as though it just wasn't that easy. If the surrounding areas were even more dangerous than the innocent looking forest down south, he wasn't planning on letting himself wander any more—he had learnt his lesson, so to speak, and Micah actually seemed quite satisfied for that. It was back to long days of watching the blue eyed farmer in his fields, conversing with him on the off chance that he was at home, and waiting for him to return whenever he was called out into the town. But while he didn't set foot out of the Sharance Tree after that day, word of his arrival had quickly spread. After some time, Micah had seemed to get over the little grudge he had against him, and began to casually mention that he had someone staying with him whenever the issue came up in conversation, and that—if he was in a good mood—it was pretty nice to have someone there to break the usual monotony of everyday life. The town was small and he didn't have to mention it to everybody he met in order for them to know about it, and he quickly found that by the time it came to mentioning it to the three women who worked at the inn, they knew everything about Arthur that Micah had ever mentioned to anybody. People were curious, now, as to why he never seemed to show up around town, and how he had managed to stay in Sharance for so long, without anybody other than Micah, Shara and the red haired girl Raven ever getting to see his face. It was when false rumours about the anthropomorphism started circulating, when Micah realised that he needed to encourage Arthur, if he was going to stay here, as it seemed he was, to start talking to people, to prevent either of them any undue embarrassment.

And that was how Arthur ended up being interrogated by none other than dense as anything Pia.

"England? What's that? Is that a kind of rodent?"

Arthur twitched in chagrin.

"It's whatever you want it to be at this rate."

"So it's a kind of fruit!"

"Is that what your brain's made of, by any chance?"

"No... At least, I don't _think_ coral is a kind of fruit."

Arthur just couldn't work out whether they were actually taking part in the same exchange.

"Actually, I think I've heard of that place," Sakuya cut in, "England is part of an island, isn't it? I've never been there, but I've heard the food is terrible."

"There's nothing wrong with the food!" Arthur snapped, "Why is that the first thing everybody hears of...?" he lamented.

Micah was quietly standing by with Shino by his side, observing from a short distance. Noting how distressed Arthur looked in the presence of the two girls, Micah wondered if this was really a good idea.

"When do you think it's the best time to give up hope, Shino?" he asked softly.

The tall woman looked down at Micah and petted his hair absently, causing the other to quietly blush with slightly widened eyes.

"I know you're stronger than that, Micah," she cooed, "You should be able to answer your own questions regarding this matter. Everybody in town is attached to you now. Think back to how long it took you to establish the bonds you've got at your disposal. And realise that a matter of two weeks isn't going to suffice for anybody else."

"Meaning...?"

"Give it time. He'll fit in just fine. You wait and see."

Micah sighed and peered on at the rose haired girl prodding at the irritated Arthur's brow, Sakuya seemingly studying him even more closely from behind, as Shino started humming lowly to herself as she massaged his shoulders casually.

"I hope you're right..." he breathed to himself.

Moving on throughout the rest of the village, however, neither Arthur nor Micah were finding themselves with very much more hope than they'd started with. Arthur was just too difficult to work with the saner of the lot, and too quick-tempered to deal with those denser, slower or otherwise less like himself. Micah started to wonder what exactly it was about himself, Shara and Shino that had managed to take such a stubborn and unforgiving man under their wings. One look at Micah's dejected face after the rounds were finally completed, however, caused Arthur to see the fault in his own ways. Not that he was going to walk back on them. He just knew that they wouldn't work in a place like this. He was used to the people back where he came from. And this... just wasn't that place.

"Look, I..." Arthur mumbled, his eyes pinned down at the ground by the Sharance Tree as the two men stood at its roots, "I'd best be honest with you... I've just got to get out of this town, Micah. It's not for me, and that clearly isn't just an anomaly if it's the judgement I've drawn from every soul who lives here..."

There was clearly no way he was going to apologise for the trouble he'd caused, however.

"I have to leave," he stated more firmly, "There isn't a single reason for me to stay..."

"But... there is." Micah turned his head to Arthur all of a sudden, his eyes full of a strange hope that seemed to have stemmed from nowhere at all. Arthur didn't see its cause. Micah hadn't known that he was so desperate to leave Sharance, but Arthur didn't exactly expect that it would come as a surprise. He would merely connect it to his sudden appearance at the outskirts of the town the first time he'd tried to escape, and realise that it was his duty to see him out in a safe way, surely. But now that he had come clean about it, there suddenly was a reason for him to remain here? He was curious more than anything, to hear what Micah had to say.

"What is it, then?" he asked abruptly.

"I... don't know," Micah admitted, folding his arms. He seemed to delve himself into a small period of thought, eyes not focused anywhere in particular, and the movement of his breaths becoming ever so slightly slower and less pronounced. The words he brought to his lips almost seemed to fall, rather than being pushed, now. "But I know there is something..."

"Please, don't make this any more complicated than it has to be," Arthur groaned, "If you're going to say that it's just a feeling... I'm not quite sure that I can believe that. Feelings are not rooted in fact, and so they deceive. What benefit could I possibly bring to you through my presence?"

"You want me to just say it?"

Arthur twitched. "You mean, you already knew what you were supposed to say in the first place?"

"Well... Yeah, but it sounds really stupid, so I didn't really want to..." Micah groaned and rubbed his face. Not thinking at all about some utterances and over thinking others was a habit of his that he honestly thought was more universal than it was. And so it ended up framing him as inconsistent and even a little unstable some of the time. Or, alternatively, perhaps it just framed him as normal.

"Well, I want you to," Arthur demanded. His short fuse was finally burning up.

Micah hastily shot his eyes at him. "You..." he breathed, before finally letting the words fly, "You're like fertiliser to me!"

That was probably not what Arthur was expected, and the pause that he faced trying to get it into his head allowed Miach some time to explain himself.

"I mean... Literally! You make my crops grow way better! I'll show you if you don't believe me. It's truly incredible."

With that he grabbed Arthur by the wrist and firmly tugged him towards the Sharance Tree's roots. He brought him under the archway and into his fields, the light of the day spilling out over the fields who finally had a new crop growing after the previous successful harvest. But there was a very small patch of crops whose fruits were already beginning to show. The patch where Arthur had fallen through the leaves and the gap in the roots and landed amongst the turnips of cerise.

"Can't you feel it too?" Micah uttered, "The runes. They're so strong around here. And I think it's because of you."

Arthur stared. He didn't know what Micah meant by 'runes', but he could definitely feel something now that he thought about it. There was a strange blue glow coming from underneath the ground. And he almost felt as though he could walk on air when he breathed in the scent of a particularly ripe crop brewing under the soil. It was actually a little bit overwhelming. Micah thought it too.

"And that's why I feel like if you were to stay here, you'd spread some of your positive influence over the rest of the fields... and the crop from the Sharance Farm would be forever bountiful."

A development Arthur was not at all expecting. But now that he heard it from Micah, he understood it. Understood it... It didn't mean he accepted it. He still didn't feel he was a part of this town. The people were willing to accept him here, but that didn't mean he wanted to be accepted. And so he had no desire to make their crops any healthier, their air any sweeter or their souls any happier. It would have literally no effect on the rest of his life, once he had left the town in the dust of his footsteps. He himself was the only one who mattered to him. Himself, and the people of the country he represented, and loved.

And yet he fully knew the reason for this development. He understood why he had this effect on this little patch of land. He knew that it stemmed from within him, and that indeed, if he were to stay, the effect would likely spread if he wanted it to. And all of it started to fit together in his head when he thought back to the one reason he had once had for staying here. The reasoning to repay the small debt he had strung together with Micah, for what he had done for him. While he had long since left that behind, seeing something now that he could use to tie up the loose end almost felt like a development from which one would be unwise to run away.

Feelings did not have any correlation with the way of the world, and yet Arthur found himself lustfully clinging to his own. Perhaps he only thought the way he did, when he thought of others. It was not that feelings did not matter. It was merely that only his own did.

"This is absurd..." he muttered.

"I know. It's selfish of me to want to keep you here just because of this. You can... go, if you want to. I just wanted to tell you what you'd done for me, even if it was only on a small scale."

"No... I didn't mean that," Arthur said, "I meant... The fact that I feel it is my duty to continue what has been started. It's truly absurd."

Micah paused a moment, before his eyes slightly widened. "So... you'll be staying, then?"

Arthur's smile was a weak one, and yet it filled Micah with such gladness to see it in physicality. He felt like the rarity of Arthur's smile brought with it certainty of the emotion it would traditionally convey. "I don't know why..." Arthur said hesitantly, "But whether wisdom fails me or not, if I feel it is my duty, then it is my duty. I'm never wrong."

The farmer felt his fingertips twitch. He realised he wanted to take the other into an embrace over the matter. Yet it would only make the matter worse to do such a thing. He would refrain, even if his heart sang the action's praises in melancholic lonesomeness as he ignored it completely.

"Then all I can say is thank you," he said instead, carefully, "And I don't know why you have this effect... but I'll use it well. I promise I won't waste your time. And I'll take good care of all your needs. I'll do whatever you want. This is my livelihood. And if we work together, we can only make this town a brighter place."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur sighed, "Please, spare me the phatic nonsense. It is entirely arbitrary."

"Oh... Of course. I'm sorry," Micah chuckled diffidently, but his spirit wasn't even slightly dampened.

Arthur supposed to himself that he would just have to keep quiet the reason he had in his head, for now, for the blessing he had over the fields and the plants.

"But, uh..." Micah hummed, scratching his head, "If you're gonna help me out... could you, like... _help _me, help me?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well... how good are you with farm tools?"

"I shouldn't know. It has been some time since I last touched an item in that semantic field."

"You've touched them before, then?" Micah's eyes brightened.

"Well, yes, indeed, but that doesn't mean..."

Micah was already off, trotting to the ladder leading to his home, with only a hand wave to tell Arthur to stay put. Arthur saw what was coming before Micah needed to directly mention it, however. He was going to get his equipment so he could rope him into running the farm with him. Just wonderful. This was exactly what he wanted to be doing with his life.

Sure enough, after only a few moments, the little agile man came sliding down the ladder again with a shining metal plough in his hands, which then came hurtling towards the waiting man.

It also hit him straight in the head.

"Ah!" Micah yelped as he realised what he'd done. What an idiot he was—he was too used to throwing things when he got excited. He needed to get it into his head that metal things were off limits.

"Ugh..." Arthur groaned, his hand quivering up to touch the area that had been struck, "You're not meant to kill your employees..."

"Employees?" Micah repeated softly as he approached him, his footsteps now tentative, "I didn't actually say I was going to... pay you..."

"You know what I mean..." Arthur winced.

"Oh, um..." Micah finally reached him again, and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder as a gesture of support, "Here... I should..." He let his words trail off as he brought his other hand to the other's head, and with it there was a gentle warp of the sound of the wind, ringing in the anthropomorphism's ears, and a green glow that swirled like a dream, that seemed to take the sting from the blow.

"You know healing magic...?" Arthur murmured.

"Yeah. It's not really my forte, but anybody who trawls the areas around here should know a little."

Arthur's response was muted; "I see."

Their eyes then naturally trailed to the tool at Arthur's feet. In a strange shift of the heart, Arthur found himself to be the first one to bring it back into focus. He bent at the knees and lifted it, trying not to make a show of the fact that its weight put a strain on his muscles.

"Are you going to give me a little refresher course concerning the usage of this thing, then?" he asked groggily, and with a crooked smile.

Micah was very careful to subdue his excitement lest something should come of it again. "Of course," he stated flatly.


	3. Chapter 3

Thusly, a period of training was to commence, and Arthur found that despite all odds he was able to pick up the skill of tilling the land without much of a problem. The weight of the tool began to come part of its charm, and he could finally see the charm itself, in this industry, this business as it never seemed to be. He hadn't realised it until now, but it was certain that he had admired the way Micah had worked as he had gazed upon him those times before, and now he was a part of it himself he felt he was reaping the rewards of a wait he shouldn't truly have had to endure. Soon they were both working the fields, and as surely as they had both predicted, Arthur's influence was beginning to spread from the small patch of concentration, to the surrounding crops, and the blue glow of runes was becoming more potent, yet manageable, and therefore, beneficial, Micah hoped.

In whatever manner, Arthur slowly regained a bond between himself and Micah as they worked together; one that he felt had been severed by their mistakes and slowly had to be sewn back together. Arthur wasn't sure what he would call Micah, whether it was a friend or just someone he knew, but Micah would consider Arthur a friend if he was allowed to. That was how he treated all people, no matter where they came from. Arthur was noticing more and more about Micah, however, like the fact that he would begin to sing to himself if he became to absorbed in rhythmic work, and that his singing voice was atrocious. Despite such a thing, he found it endearing in its own way. The fact that they were both happy enough to work with one another, and reap the benefits of the land together, was enough to ignore anything.

As summer rolled in, Micah was especially glad for the extra hands on the farm. It was hard to work a field in blazing heat all alone, especially if he wanted to keep his profits steady throughout the entire year, and couldn't afford to slow down production for the sake of the weather. The two of them were finding more and more ways to cope with every situation that befell them, some of which Micah never thought he ever could have come up with, or executed, alone.

"So," Micah said casually as he swept the sweat from his brow, turning his head to see Arthur who was working the field opposite, "Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself?"

"Why?" Arthur asked a little abruptly. Bonded or not, he was still a little withdrawn from the other, because that was merely how he acted with everybody. "What could you possibly want to know?"

"Well... I still don't get the whole anthropomorphism thing," Micah admitted, "Unless it's some kind of secret I'm not meant to know about..."

"No, no, nothing of the sort," Arthur replied, "It's merely an odd concept that you either understand or you don't. It isn't vital knowledge."

"Huh. I see," Micah grunted, followed with a sigh, "Then I won't bother you about it any more."

Arthur paused a moment before his voice became sheepish. "Well... Not that I mind it," he said in a slight grumble, "I suppose it would make for a way to pass the time."

Micah smiled to himself vaguely. "You don't have to think of an excuse for everything nice you do or say."

"I don't!" Arthur retorted, "It's just the truth."

"Whatever you say," Micah chuckled innocently.

With that, Arthur was somewhat hesitant to begin with, but soon words were flowing from his mouth. He explained to him the ins and outs of his country—everything he could think of, he ended up babbling on about to the other. He was a bit surprised, actually, that Micah could bear to listen to him in his biased views. He was certainly singing England's praises. Then he explained that he was the spirit and the life of the country he inhabited. That it directly affected him physically and mentally, as though his body and his country were one. Micah did have some trouble grasping the idea, but he knew that stranger things could come about.

"That must be kinda difficult," he said half to himself, "If something bad happened to your place even while you were gone, you'd feel the effects of it. Isn't it a little hard to live knowing you're not in control of your body at all?"

"Don't you suppose I would be used to it by now?" Arthur asked sadly, "After all, my country and I have been around for many years now."

"How many?"

"Enough, let me assure you."

"Right. Sorry." Micah paused before a thought then came to mind. "Do you think there's a representation of Sharance wandering around?"

Arthur wasn't exactly sure how to answer that. "Well, personifications of smaller areas aren't unheard of. But I think you would have seen him or her around already if it were the case," he decided.

Micah shrugged. "Maybe it's Shara," he supposed, "Although I'm sure she isn't that old."

"Tch. I seem old to you, then?"

"What? N- no! Not at all!" Micah was quick to drop the plough in his hands and look in desperation over at Arthur, "Please, I didn't mean it like that!"

Arthur was merely amused. "Calm yourself," he said smoothly, "I was only fooling around with you."

"What?" Micah blinked. "I didn't realise you could..."

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it!"

"Um... hello?"

Both men turned their heads to the entrance of the farm. Shara was right there, a basket of flowers in her hands, seemingly having just arrived, yet still having listened to some of their exchange.

"Oh, hey, Shara," Micah said hastily, "What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to drop by," Shara replied cheerily, "It's summer now, though. I wondered if you might want to go somewhere with me. Just on the off chance that you weren't too busy, of course."

Micah gave an awkward laugh. "Well, I wouldn't say no usually, but... The season only just switched. We've got a lot of work to do to get everything ready. There's still a lot of planting to do."

Shara giggled. "Nonsense. You two were nattering away just now; I saw it."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked over at Micah. Was he making excuses?

"Well, it was about the work."

"But I heard you say my name."

"You're hearing things!"

"Don't lie to me, Micah." Suddenly Shara seemed serious. To that, Micah seemed to react. It was as though his switch had been flicked.

"You're right..." he uttered lowly, "Sorry about that." Yet, he didn't seem all that apologetic, Arthur noted. It was more like he was saying it to avoid further incident. But he couldn't work out why. Now that he thought about it, over the time he'd been helping on the farm with him, he hadn't really gone to see Shara all that much. Only when she requested his aid, or if he needed to make a delivery or three. Otherwise he was obeying business as usual—spending more time in the surrounding areas, fighting and honing his skills, because he had an extra pair of hands at the farm. If he had a choice, would Micah not go to see her at all? He didn't understand the situation. Not quite.

"It's okay," Shara said, but she didn't seem sure in herself. She, too, was the kind to let things pass even if she wasn't quite ready. "So, Micah? Would you like to come with me or not?"

"Uh... the flower field, right? By Privera." The usual, he thought glumly.

"Of course," Shara affirmed with a mindless giggle.

Micah didn't feel he had that much of a choice. He turned to Arthur and shrugged his shoulders with a lightly furrowed brow, and then turned back to look at Shara with a bright smile. It wasn't faked, but he knew he was trying to make it more profound—he knew in himself that he'd rather be here, discussing what they had been discussing. It was something new. Shara had been very attached to him ever since his arrival, and while he would do anything to make her happy for one reason or another, if it was a recreational outing being requested of him, he'd rather give his own wishes some attention by now. He didn't want to be selfish, but he had done a lot for this town already. He felt that there had to be a point where he could say he'd done his bit to pay back the land and its people, and live his own life. Maybe he was mistaken to think he'd met it yet, however.

"Alright, well," he began, "I'll catch you later, Arthur. I'll be back in an hour or so."

Arthur smiled very briefly. He knew that Micah usually took a lot longer when he was out. Time didn't exactly fly when he was here on the farm all alone.

Micah was still hesitant, but then he made off with Shara. He carefully looked over his shoulder to see Arthur giving him a half wave, but just as he did so he felt something clamp around his arm. It wasn't a strong grasp, but it was firm enough to make him realise where his attention was supposed to be focus; strong enough to alert him but gentle enough for him to know it was Shara's fingers curled around the fabric of his detached sleeves, and lightly clutching at his bicep. Skimming his eyes from those fingers, towards the fair skin of her cheek, he could see that it was lightly blushed, and yet her features were relaxed in that manner that told him she had something to say to him, and it would have to be an active effort, she made, to make it sound as nice as possible when it came out. He gulped unconsciously.

* * *

Shara delicately hung her hands in front of her knees as she tucked herself between the flower beds, gazing out at the thousands and thousands of blooms in varied pastel colours in the distance, and allowing the refreshing early summer breeze to touch the vivid locks she hung from her head, occasionally flicking it behind her as though it were trying to remind her where home lay.

Micah loved this place as well. He remembered the first time Shara had asked him to come here. She had called it a date, even back then, and he didn't doubt that that was what she was thinking of it as now. He didn't have a problem with that. If she didn't, he had no right to. And it wasn't as though it meant a thing. It must have been a casual term. He found the sight of her amongst the petals here so mesmerising; he knew how much she loved flowers, whether he needed the proof of her sobriety regarding the matter or not, and so having her here with him, portraying silently the gladness the presence of the living plants gave her, just felt so right. But with the knowledge that he had let on that he was hesitant, this time, to be brought, and that she seemed to have something on her mind to which he would be well served to listen lest he should face consequences later, he couldn't bring himself to relax. And someone who could feel the mood of flowers without a sense, would surely be able to do the same for someone who had consciousness, like him.

"You seem a bit fidgety," Shara stated, though her tone was relaxed in this environment, "Is it because of me?"

"What? What makes you say that?" Micah asked in return, his eyes locked on her every detail so he wouldn't miss a thing, "I... I'm sorry about, you know, earlier..."

"Don't mention it," she dismissed, "I understand you'd rather be working. After all, you were already taking a break, weren't you? I'm sure you feel guilty having two in a row."

Micah wasn't sure whether that was how she really felt, or what she was trying to convince of herself. He wasn't going to lie to her, either way. He knew how she hated that. "It's not like that, Shara..."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Micah," Shara cut in, "Please. I don't want you to feel like I'm controlling your life."

"Since when can you read my mind?" Micah let the words slip without really thinking them over, and by Shara's visible reaction he could tell that that was a mistake.

She let a pause in her voice tell everything; she was trying to be polite, but ended up striking a chord she was really hoping didn't exist. She'd finally now realised that Micah had broken away from her—his mentor, she had liked to call herself; someone who she could shape to be the man she thought he ought to be, since he had been oh so helpless in the beginning—and recovered largely on his own, with the help of everybody else in town, too. Realising that made her think of how little involvement she had truly had in his life up until now. Micah had slain a foul monster in the depths of the forest that lay only a few steps away from this wonderful field, and Shara was very sure that Micah was venturing into similar depths within the nearby desert, where barely a soul in town set foot, for various reasons. The courage to do that was always installed in Micah, even if Shara didn't know whence it came. He was a natural, and truthfully, all she had been required for was to get him on his feet in order to realise a potential that had been sitting just out of reach.

"I guess I'm just good at that kind of thing," she said carefully at last, "And now I know it, I suppose I can correct what I've been doing wrong..."

Now Micah felt worse than he ever thought he could. He became flustered, and wanted more than anything for her to just feel better about this. Whenever someone was truly affected by something he said or did, and it looked as though there might be a lasting consequence for the other person, he found himself wishing he had never felt that way himself, in the first place, and realising how silly his own complaints had been. It had happened in the recent past, just before Arthur had arrived so unexpectedly; he had said something rather out of line to Karina, the shop girl, regarding her sleeping habits, and he had never seen a look so distraught on her face, even if she was too lazy even to express her heartbreak. And it was only after she had acted strangely throughout the rest of their exchange, when he realised how little it had had to do with him, and how wrong he had been to bring it up at all. He felt much the same way here.

"No, Shara, it's okay, really!" he said hastily, "There's something you're missing. Try reading my mind again."

Shara looked at him tearfully, a strange hopelessness behind her eyes. It unnerved Micah even more.

"You see it?"

"Don't be silly... Of course I don't."

"There's another side to what you can see," Micah breathed, grasping her hand without thinking—once more—and holding it in place with his own, a blush similar to previous now rising to the girl's cheeks, "I don't want you to control my life any more, Shara, it's true. But it's because I just want to be a part of yours."

He would have said anything to get out of this mess. And so he cursed the world, after the words had spilled out, that he had chosen something that had the potential, to a romantic girl like Shara, to sound so much like a love confession. He bit his lip, knowing that it had worked, as the brightness in Shara's eyes was undeniable. He couldn't take it back. But he couldn't exactly say that he had meant what she had taken it to be, either.

At least the words themselves had been entirely truthful.

"You really mean that?" Shara whispered. Micah could feel her hand slowly curling around his own, now. This was bad. He could feel her getting closer.

"Of course," he said after a pause, "I feel I've come to know you, so..."

Definitely just making it worse now.

Shara's eyes softened. She was entirely satisfied. And yet, there were two sides, too, to her own understanding of the situation. While she had definitely understood what Micah had said to be a confession of his utmost, heartfelt feelings, she hadn't heard the definitive words that would lock them in place. It would be obvious to any soul who saw them sitting in such a scenic place, hand in hand, that at least one of the two was in love with the other, and it would be clearer still with any insight that that one was Shara. And so while Micah's words were wholly encouraging, she knew she still had a ways to go to secure his affection. She wasn't going to force it from him now. It just meant too much to her for her to risk it.

"Thank you for coming with me today, Micah," she uttered, "I'll let you get back to your work, now, I think."

Her giggle came through on the air; charming as it was, Micah felt his stomach twinge for the worse upon hearing it. She released his hand, and he brought it quickly towards himself, hanging it over his knee and letting his head swing with it, to stare upon a patch of grass and petals fixedly; awaiting the time when he could say he was alone again. Shara took the gesture only to be a bashful one, and in some ways that was a blessing to Micah, who knew he could make no further mistake on this matter, yet in others a curse, for her mind was now fixed the way he had set it. Shara left happily, and Micah almost swore that he could hear her humming in the distance until she had departed the clearing. He had solved one large problem. But he had only created with it another that could have even more jarring consequences.

* * *

Naturally, he had no choice but to relay what had occurred to Arthur after having returned home, for his air of natural wellbeing had now been cracked, and with the time Arthur had spent becoming acquainted to that air, it was only seconds after his croaking voice announced his arrival home, when Arthur confronted Micah and asked him of what it was that ailed him. Micah told him everything, and Arthur cracked a small smile at his woes. He slapped a hand in the centre of his back; a manlike gesture to will him to cheer up. He was not the one who had experienced it, and knew what would now come, and for that, he was not able to share in Micah's apparent misery. But he understood the situation entirely. He understood just from Micah's relation of the state of affairs Shara's feelings towards him, and equally so, the lack thereof on Micah's own part.

"A slight predicament, I'll give you that," Arthur said gently, "But you shouldn't be so down about it. You merely need to tell her the truth."

"She doesn't take to the truth all that well," Micah grumbled, shoulders tightened and expression generally meek, "You know what she was like about something as little as the flowers. If I really mean that much to her, then I don't know what I'm going to do if she finds out... you know, how I really feel. I'm scared of what'll happen to my home as well. Her grandpa's the mayor and all. He could kick me out faster than you'd jump out of a pool in the middle of winter."

Arthur chuckled deeply. "I believe you may be overreacting, just a tad."

Micah attempted a weak smile. "Yeah... Guess you're right."

Arthur paused for a moment, before removing his hand from the centre of the other's back. He wrung his hands, and glanced out of the window, as if in thought for a mere moment. "Even still," he began, "I would allow her to follow her false pretences just for a little while."

"Huh?" Micah grunted, "How come?"

"Do you not think it would be a little difficult for her to believe you if you took it back right away?" Arthur suggested, "According to what you've told me, Shara seems to be nothing shy of elated. I think she is of the mindset that nothing can knock her from her tree in the clouds while she's still flying high. It'd be easier to break it to her if she were a little closer to the ground. Let her come down of her own accord. Let the initial buzz wear off. Perhaps by then, she will have been able to see the truth by herself."

Micah wasn't truly certain whether he should take what Arthur was telling him seriously. Whether Arthur had experience in this field or not was beyond him. In one way he saw the personification as someone who had experience in all fields; wise and knowledgeable, and the one he should run to if he was in need of advice. But in another, due to the other's age and dutiful one sided view of the rest of the world, he wondered whether he could truly see everything in a balanced way, or whether he had merely become accustomed, over time, to relay what suited him, rather than what would suit any other person on the planet. He had to choose a side of Arthur that would help him judge whether to take his advice or not. Ideally, he would see which was the more prominent, through the future weeks' coming to know him better, but he was forced now to make the decision based on what he knew of him at this very moment. Something about the smile on the other's face, though, relaxed Micah. It was relaxed in itself. He was the face of reason. Quite unlike what both of the men thought of Shara in that moment. Indeed, they both realised that she had been launched off into her own ideal world, where the object of her affections had hinted without remorse that he loved her back, and she was waiting for confirmation, not destruction of that ideal world itself. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be rational, thoughtful, and most importantly, there, in the real world, with Micah, in that moment, and as such, he was obliged to take his hand of helping and accept what he was saying.

He would glide between worlds. He'd humour Shara with the pretence of what she had taken his words to mean, while remaining firm, never explicitly mentioning his own feelings, in the hopes that one day, she would realise that that one confirmation she sought was never meant to be, and the spark of suggested romance would fade without incident.

Ultimately, that was what he told Arthur he would do. But he would not mention to him that he would continue avoiding Shara in order to carry it out. He knew from today's experience that he was good at messing things up with his words. If he just didn't see the girl, perhaps he would be able to avoid his plan crumbling to shreds merely by avoiding the need to voice them. He didn't think that Arthur would let him slide without ridicule if he told him that. For, after all, Arthur did not reside within his shoes in that moment. And he didn't want his friend to think he was being unnecessarily cowardly in a situation that from the outside would seem petty and shallow. He didn't need two people in his life who saw him in a way that didn't reflect reality.

* * *

The early execution of the plan went as follows.

The first day brought no Shara in sight. The two men remained upon the Sharance fields in the midst of hard work as they had become used to, and the plan itself managed to escape both of their minds in that manner throughout the majority of the day. An overwhelming victory logged into the back of Micah's mind, and a well set out path to ultimate success, it seemed.

The second day brought a visit much like the one previous. Micah knew that his secret clause not to see the girl could not be foolproof, and as such he managed to make his excuse smooth and swift, for he had planned it in advance; he would not be venturing out with Shara, as a recent job had since come up which would bind him between his fields and his forge for the duration of the day. Shara's reaction was stilted, but, trusting in what Micah had said before—that he would be pleased to spend more time with her in the future—she was willing to let something like this that she deemed genuine come between them if it was only temporary. It simply allowed her to look forward to the next available opportunity, and develop a perfume that she had been working on in recent days, to prepare herself more fully for their date. A success, the day was, though it left a questioning expression on Arthur's face; not once did he see Micah strike a hammer by the forge that day.

A third day would therefore be far too much. Micah told himself silently that if Shara wished to venture with him that day, he would go without question. With Arthur on hand any genuine concern over the welfare of his fields was negated. And Shara was still the closest of friends to him. He could not go on avoiding contact with someone with a genuine place in his heart forever.

That didn't mean he actively wanted her to turn up when she did, however.

"See you later, Arthur," his muted voice mumbled, as he was turned away by the energetic girl on his arm. Arthur gave him a wink, in a certain 'don't-do-anything-I-wouldn't-do' fashion, to which Micah only groaned, sighed and made off. Arthur's jest did not last for much longer than that. He was already doubting his own advice. If going on like this was going to make Micah as miserable as he seemed, then he wondered if it was truly best to advise him to put the girl's happiness first.

As he watched Micah go, he felt a flutter in his chest, and the runes of the crop surrounding him simultaneously expanded and strengthened, before appearing to return to normal. Arthur bit his lip, gaze becoming distant. A predicament this would be, if it continued on for too long. Perhaps it was time for them to rethink the plan they had only concocted days before.


End file.
